To Bulgaria and Back
by egor11572
Summary: The summer before 6th year, Hermione is invited to visit Viktor Krum. Her parents don't want her traveling alone to Bulgaria, so they convince her to take Ron along. And we ALL know how Ron gets around Viktor Krum. RWHG
1. Chapter One

**To Bulgaria and Back: Chapter One**

**By: Susan**

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns everything.

**Summary: **Set the summer before sixth year.  Hermione is invited to visit Viktor Krum. However, her parents don't want her traveling alone to meet someone they don't know, so, they convince her to take Ron along.

**xxx******

Night had fallen on Privet Drive.  The sky was a dusty piece of black velvet, with pinpricks of light from distant stars that seemed to pin it up in every corner, as far as Harry Potter could see.

The air was sticky and voluminous.  It seemed to cover every inch of the room and surround Harry to the point where he wanted to be sick.  He had been lucky; he'd found a tiny fan in the back of a drawer and he'd shifted it to high power.  The breeze that drifted from it was certainly better than nothing, even though it was incredibly small.  
 

Harry crawled onto his bed, and began rereading _Quidditch__ through the Ages, _desperately trying to keep his mind from wandering back through the door in the Department of Mysteries…

It was midway through July; Harry had received letters from almost everyone he knew; Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, letters from whom were common during the summer, and even a few from his old teacher, Professor Lupin, and his headmaster.

Most had sidestepped the topic of just what had happened about a month ago, except for Lupin.  He seemed just as upset as Harry, but since he was older and had lost many more people he loved than Harry had, he was quite a comfort to him.  Harry found him to be healing the void Sirius' death had left in him, and slowly helping him to fill it again.  Lupin seemed to realize that Harry needed someone to speak to and confide in and he offered himself, knowing his best friend would've wanted it.

Harry flipped to the next page, skimming the words but not absorbing them as he would've liked.  He stood up quickly and stared out the window…Something was flying straight at him, illuminated by the crescent moon.

A large barn owl glided straight into his room and perched itself happily on Harry's bedpost.  He crawled across the bed and ripped at the envelope tied to the brown owl's leg that was bearing the letter.

Hermione's neat handwriting gleamed up at him from the parchment.  He pushed his glasses straight up onto his nose and began to read.

_Dear Harry,_

_I do hope you're well.  The owl, by the way, is Viktor's; he sent me a letter and I immediately used his owl to write to you after it recovered from the journey with me for a few days.  Viktor invited me to spend a week with him in Bulgaria, and I haven't written him back yet.  I feel terribly, he's wanted me to visit since last year, but we were busy in Grimmauld Place.  The problem is that my mum and dad aren't exactly happy to send me off to Bulgaria to meet someone they'd never met; especially a boy.  I've told them that it's quite easy, I'd just use Floo Powder and be there in an instant, but they're not keen on having me trouncing about in the many fireplaces from England to Bulgaria._

_I suppose that's why I'm writing.  You see, Harry, I've told them quite a lot about school and especially about the things you, Ron, and I have faced and they said they'd let me go if I bring one of you along, because they've met you both, even if it was just for a moment or two._

_Now you know why I'm writing; perhaps if I ask Dumbledore to let you come with me to visit Viktor he'll agree?  I'm sure he'd love to play Quidditch with you and take you to the stadium where he plays.  I haven't answered Viktor yet because I'm waiting for your response.  I know you'll agree with me when I say that I don't think Ron would enjoy traveling to Bulgaria with me…I won't go into details, but I do think you remember the Yule Ball?_

_I hope you'll think about it as I've already written to Dumbledore.  His response should be coming any day now.  I put up a great defense; I don't think he'll refuse._

_Love from,_

_Hermione_

Harry lowered the letter in disbelief.  He was certain that Hermione had gotten her hopes up a bit too high.  As much as he would've enjoyed seeing the stadium and Quidditch pitch where Krum played, he was sure that Dumbledore would not let him leave Privet Drive unless Voldemort had lost power, which he knew would not be happening anytime soon.

He felt a pang of sympathy for Hermione; she probably wouldn't be able to travel without him, and he thought she was quite right not to want to take Ron.  Why had he been thrown into this life?  He was hurting everyone around him by being so connected to Lord Voldemort.

Harry glanced back at the letter.  He would've loved to see the Quidditch stadium Krum played in, and a professional Quidditch practice up close.  He'd need to, as he had been hoping to be made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain when he arrived back at Hogwarts.

He put down Hermione's letter and picked up _Quidditch__ through the Ages_ once more.  If he couldn't see Bulgaria's stadium in person, he might as well read a bit more about it.

**xxx******

Hermione awoke the next morning to a knocking noise on her window.  She stood, yawned, and slid it open, letting the pretty brown owl inside her room.  The sky behind it was a brilliant shade of blue that made her ache to be at Hogwarts, sitting on the grounds looking up at the sky.  The owl landed on her desk and happily sipped some water she'd left out in a bowl.

She gently detached the letter from its leg as it drank, unfolded it, praying that the headmaster had agreed to her wishes.  She was incredibly excited at the thought of leaving England and seeing Bulgaria, which Viktor had told her quite a lot about.  It was summer, so it would be a bit warmer then he'd described (at least she hoped), but it would still be quite beautiful, and probably have quite a lot of interesting wizarding history.

Her face fell as soon as she put her eyes on the parchment.  _It would be too much of a gamble…Harry needs to be under the protection of his aunt and uncle at this point in time, Hermione…_She bit her lip to keep from crying out.  How was she supposed to go anywhere?  Honestly, the way her parents talked, it seemed as if they thought she had no ability to defend herself.  She would be sixteen in September and had studied quite a lot about magical defense.

Hermione was pulled from her thoughts by a knocking at the door.

"Did you get a response from Harry, dear?"

It was her mum.  Count on her to cut right to the chase.

"Yes, mum," Hermione said quietly, "He can't come…er…His Aunt and Uncle won't let him."  Hermione hadn't told her parents about Harry's strange connection with Lord Voldemort.

"The poor boy, being raised by people like that.  But Hermione dear, it's not that I don't trust you; it's that I don't trust other people.  If Harry can't come, perhaps your friend with the red hair…Ronald?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.  She imagined that the response from asking Ron to come along would be strikingly similar to asking Voldemort very nicely to stop killing muggles.

"I…I don't know," Hermione told her mother, opening the door and handing her the hamper.

"Well why not?" her mother responded, "He's the only other friend of yours I know.  I'm not about to ship you off to Bulgaria unless someone I know quite well goes along."

Hermione grimaced.  "Ron's a bit…He…well…doesn't like Viktor much," she said quickly, looking down at the floor when she noticed the knowing look on her mother's face.

"Hermione, dear, if he's your friend, I'm sure he'll go along regardless."

Hermione gave her a false smile.  Her mum didn't know Ron.

**xxx******

"I'll take scrambled eggs," Ron decided, "And catsup."

"Ron, that's disgusting," Ginny said, handing him the bottle.  "It looks like bloody brains."

"Bwansrntellow," Ron responded, loading his plate up with more eggs.  He swallowed.  Ginny's eggs were not the same as his mothers, he thought involuntarily.  She'd been out working for the Order for the past two nights, and his father was hopeless when it came to cooking.  Fred and George were in Diagon Alley working on their shop, and his father was asleep.  Percy was still defiantly ignoring his parents and family, which left Ron and Ginny home to fend for themselves.

_Tap. tap._  Ginny spun around to see a giant brown owl flapping its wings to keep itself airborne outside the kitchen window.

"You want to get that?" she asked, taking the milk from the icebox.  Ron licked the catsup off his fingers, and she gave him a dirty look.  She opened the window and the owl fluttered in, clacking its talons on the kitchen table.

Ron swallowed another mouthful, then detached the envelope from the owl's foot.  He opened it warily.

"Whose owl is that?" Ginny asked Ron, but he ignored her and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt as he scanned the letter.

"Fine then," Ginny said huffily, "Don't respond."

"Is she serious?  Does she really think- I can't even- Honestly, the nerve," he sputtered, "I don't believe her," he said finally.

Ginny took the letter from Ron's hands, and he lifted another forkful of eggs to his mouth.  "Whose it from?  Hermione?" she asked, noticing the neat handwriting, "Wait, whose owl is this?"

Ron laughed cynically, "It's Vicky's, of course, who else's would it be?"

Ginny gave Ron a knowing look, but he didn't seem to notice.  She unfolded the letter and began to read.

_Dear Ron,_

_Viktor's invited me to spend a week with him in Bulgaria, and I was wondering if you'd like to come along.  My mum and dad don't want to send me alone, even though I'll be sixteen in September, because they've never met Viktor._

_Harry can't come with me because Professor Dumbledore won't let him, and I think it would be fun if you came to see the Quidditch pitch where Viktor plays and to see his team practice._

_I can't go without you, Ron, and I really hope you'll consider coming along.  I think it'll turn out to be a great time.  We can use Floo Powder and leave from the Burrow as soon as I get your response._

_Love from,_

_Hermione_

"Oh Ron, you're being silly," Ginny said, "She wants you to come along with her."

"Only so she can see her boyfriend," he protested, "You know, the one who can't even say her name."

Ginny shrugged, "I think she really would enjoy having you along.  And she can't go without you," she turned the letter over in her hands, "You wouldn't be much of a friend to tell her no."

Ron dropped his fork into the empty plate.  "Listen, Ginny, I don't think you understand.  I'll be like…the odd man out…Krum and Hermione are-"

"Ron," Ginny said impatiently, "Did you ever ask Hermione what Krum meant to her?"

Ron shrugged.  "I'm not going.  They'll be at his house, probably kissing every other minute, and I'll have to sit and watch his big nose crushed up against her face.  Sounds like a great week, doesn't it?"

"Well," said Ginny nonchalantly, "I suppose you'll have to go along to make sure that doesn't happen, won't you?"

Ron bit his lip.  If he didn't go, he would spend a week imagining just what was going on between Hermione and Krum.  If he did go, he would spend a week knowing what was going on between Hermione and Krum.  Either way, he wouldn't like what he saw, but it seemed smarter to see the truth and not his imagination, which he would admit, sometimes ran quite far away.

Ginny stood up and took a quill off the table next to the couch.

"Here," she said, "Take this and write her; tell her you'll come along.  I can't bear to spend the week with you if she goes without you.  You'll be absolutely terrible; just go along."

Ron picked up the quill and turned over the piece of parchment.  He expected that Hermione would be very surprised when she got his response.

**xxx******


	2. Chapter Two

**To Bulgaria and Back: Chapter Two**

**By: Susan**

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns everything.

**Summary: **Set the summer before sixth year. Hermione is invited to visit Viktor Krum. However, her parents don't want her traveling alone to meet someone they don't know, so they convince her to take Ron along.

**xxx**

"I think it's a great idea. Viktor Krum's bound to be willing to show you around. You can take the camera and take pictures, Ron."

Run grunted and shoveled mashed potatoes into his mouth. Hermione would be arriving in an hour. He had agreed to go along with her, but he'd assured Hermione in his last letter to her that if anything happened between Krum and her directly in front of him he'd be taking the next fireplace straight back to England, and he meant it.

"I think it'll be fabulous, mum," said Ginny, taking a bite of her chicken. "It's a shame Harry can't go, but he'll love to see photographs, won't he?"

"You just love making Harry happy, don't you?" Ron said, and took a bite of his food before Ginny could protest.

"Professor Dumbledore has his reasons for not letting Harry along," Mrs. Weasley said, spooning mashed potatoes onto her husband's plate. "I'm just quite glad we all can have dinner together before you two leave tomorrow," she said to Ron and Ginny.

"Yes," Mr. Weasley said, "And you'll be quite all right with Fred and George in Diagon Alley, Ginny?"

Ginny nodded, "I'll be fine, daddy."

"Don't make too much trouble for them," Mrs. Weasley said resignedly, as she still didn't approve of the career choice of her twin sons.

"Leaves us free to stay at Grimmauld Place and do some extra work for the Order," Mr. Weasley said quietly. Nobody met his eyes. Grimmauld Place had always been a dark place, but with the death of Sirius, it seemed even more so.

"Ron, dear, how is Hermione arriving?" Mrs. Weasley asked heavily, breaking the silence that hung in the air around the four.

Ron swallowed. "I think she said her parents were planning to drive her in their car."

"Are they planning to come inside?" asked Mr. Weasley excitedly, "I had wanted to ask them about this machine I heard…A cumpewter, I thought it was…"

Ron tuned his father out as he enthusiastically began talking about mice and montyers. He was still concerned with the week that lay ahead of him. His stomach turned over and he felt as if the chicken he was eating was clucking at him.

A sudden ringing broke through the house, and Ginny, Mrs. Weasley and Ron looked up fearfully.

"What's that?" Ginny asked.

Mr. Weasley blushed, "It's…er…nothing, nothing at all." He stood up and walked to the front room to open the door, where stood Hermione and her parents. Mrs. Wealsey followed him.

"What in the world was that, Arthur?" she asked with disdain.

"Muggles call it a doorbell," he said, as though this was ingenious. He smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who wheeled Hermione's trunk into the house. Ron swallowed the last bite of his food, and, followed by Ginny, went to greet Hermione.

"And you made this awful thing ring when people arrive? This is what muggles use to greet each other with?"

"Actually, it's like a knocker, except louder," said Hermione helpfully.

"Arthur, honestly," Mrs. Weasley said, "I hope you didn't use magic to tamper with this in any way."

He shifted uncomfortably and looked down at the floor, then turned to the Grangers, "Care for a cup of tea?" They smiled and followed him into the kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley followed, and audibly mumbled, "Installing silly muggle trinkets…this is what he spends his time doing…"

Hermione smiled, then gave Ginny and Ron each a hug. "I'm sorry Harry couldn't come along with us," she told Ron, pushing a bushy curl behind her ear.

"So am I," Ron agreed quickly. He secretly wished that Harry could've gone so either he wouldn't have had to, or so that he would've had a companion. Hermione gave him an odd look. "Er…I mean…It's a shame he can't see the pitch Krum plays on…he sure would've loved it." Hermione stalked away towards the kitchen, and Ginny followed, throwing Ron an immensely dirty look.

He shrugged. Hermione certainly shouldn't be the one angry with him, considering her only means of arriving in Bulgaria were connected directly to him. _Perhaps I'll just tell her I changed my mind_, he thought evilly, though he knew he'd be going along whether he liked it or not. His mother would throw him straight into the fireplace, not caring whether he choked to death on dust or arrived in Madagascar.

He took Hermione's trunk and wheeled it over to the fireplace, then resignedly trotted off towards the kitchen.

"Hello," he said awkwardly, seeing as he was interrupting. Hermione and her parents were seated at the table with his father, and Ginny and his mother was bustling around pouring tea for everyone sitting at the table, already deep in conversation, no doubt speaking about cumpewters, or what a dentist was.

"Hello," said Mr. Granger, reaching out a hand to shake Ron's. He took it and shook meekly, and then turned to Hermione, who didn't meet his eye. "We're awfully glad you'll be taking care of our daughter for a week," he said. Ron blushed.

"Don't worry, she'll have Viktor Krum for that," he said without thinking.

Hermione's mother arched an eyebrow. "Hermione, dear, are you-"

"No, mum," Hermione said quickly, shooting Ron an angry look, "Ron's just got a bit against Viktor."

"We aren't quite sure why," said Ginny helpfully, "Viktor's awfully nice." She sent Ron a look that told him full well not to say anything more.

"That's certainly the makings of a good friend," Hermione's dad said, clapping Ron on the back, "If you don't even like the boy and you'll travel across Europe for her to see him."

Ron gave them a false smile. "He's…not bad," he said, but the words felt like poison on his tongue. "Er, can I speak to Hermione for a moment," he asked, "Alone," he amended, as Ginny made to stand up with her.

Hermione followed Ron out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"Honestly, Ron, the nerve, Viktor and I are just friends, you can't go around saying that Viktor'll take good care of me in front of my parents!"

"Well, why can't I, it's absolutely true!"

Hermione struggled to keep her voice level, "No matter what you may think, Ronald, Viktor Krum and I are not dating. I haven't made mention of this to my mother, she thinks I just get along quite better with boys than with girls. Please keep anything you may think about our relationship to yourself."

Ron smiled emotionlessly, "So, your mum doesn't know that you fancy Viktor and he fancies you?"

Hermione bit her lip to keep herself from screaming, and the result was a snarl that made Ron take a step up the stairs away from her. "I don't fancy Viktor, Ron, and you should quite well know that."

"I- I should quite well know that? All I know is that you're constantly writing novels to send off to him, and then you ask me for a favor and I agree, and you act like a-"

"Like a what?" Hermione asked dangerously.

"You asked Harry before me!" He shouted at her, "You didn't want me to come at all!"

Hermione looked at him quizzically, "How did you know that?"

"Your letter seemed to give it away," he said pleasantly, pulling a crumpled bit of parchment from his pocket. He unfolded it and noticed it was blank, with smudges of green ink on it. "Er…Mum must've put these pants in the wash," he said embarrassedly.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Ron, I only asked Harry first because I know he gets along with Viktor better than you do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that…Well…I'm sure that Viktor remembers how you treated him at the Yule Ball, Ron…It isn't as if you apologized."

"I asked him for his autograph, Hermione," Ron said, as if this was an apparent way to apologize.

"That's not an apology, Ron," Hermione sighed.

"It's as good as one," he said angrily. "Listen, you should be happy I'm going along…I know you didn't expect it."

"I certainly did expect it. And I'm glad you're coming along, now you won't whine and wonder just what Viktor and I did as soon as you found out I went to visit him."

"I don't whine!" Ron shouted.

"No, of course not," Hermione yelled, "How could I have been mistaken? You whimper and complain."

Ron eyed her angrily, "Fine, you know what…I won't come along, Hermione."

Hermione looked as if this information hadn't had the slightest effect upon her. "You know full well that your mother will throw you straight into that fireplace with me, as you've already promised that you'd come along. Why bother to argue?"

Ron shrugged and sat down on the steps. Hermione sat down next to him. "I can't stand it when we fight," she said quietly.

"Why, because you never win?" Ron asked, a grin tugging his lips upward.

Hermione narrowed her eyebrows. "For your information, I-"

"Are you two ready to leave?" Mrs. Weasley asked, interrupting Hermione's angry response. "Ron, dear, your trunk's all packed?"

"Yes mum," he said, standing up, "It's right next to the fireplace." She smiled and grabbed him, pulling him into a large unwanted and unreturned hug.

"You'll be all right, now, won't you?"

"Yes, mum, I'll be fine." She leaned in to hug him again.

"Hermione, you'll take care of him, won't you?"

Hermione smiled, "Of course I will, Mrs. Weasley."

"See that he changes his underpants every day, Hermione, he has a bad habit of-"

"MUM!" Ron shouted, turning pink. Hermione began to laugh and hugged Mrs. Weasley.

"Of course I will," she assured her. Ginny, Mr. Weasley, and Hermione's parents came into the front room to the fireplace.

"Ready to leave?" Mr. Weasley asked, clapping his hands together with excitement, "We just bought more Floo powder, so we'll be sure to have enough," he assured them.

"Do you both have your trunks? And Ron, do you have your broom?" Ginny asked as they followed Mrs. Weasley into the front room.

"Yes," Hermione and Ron answered.

"And the camera?" Mrs. Weasley asked, rushing over with it and placing it inside his trunk.

"Cloaks, in case it gets chilly?" They nodded. Mrs. Weasley ushered them towards the fireplace, barely letting Hermione stop to kiss her mother and father goodbye. Ron threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and waited for it to turn emerald green, then grabbed his trunk by the handle and made to stoop into the fireplace.

"Take her hand," Mr. Weasley said, "If you get lost, at least you'll be together. Come straight back here if you do."

Hermione reluctantly took Ron's hand, as she was still quite angry with him, then grabbed her trunk and waved goodbye to her parents.

They stepped in the fireplace and Hermione shouted Ekaterina Place. And they were spinning violently through the air; their ears were screaming as a whirl of green flames brutally attacked them. It was like this for more than a minute, and then everything suddenly went deadly still.

**xxx**

Ron toppled out of the fireplace, landing headfirst on a dark red wooden floor. He rolled over, moaning, and Hermione fell out of the fireplace, straight on top of him.

"Ouch!" he said angrily, boosting himself up off the floor.

"Well, if you hadn't let go of my hand!"

"I didn't let go of your hand, you let go of my hand!"

Hermione looked at him angrily, but decided to stay nothing. She stood up and looked at the room they were in. The fireplace they had just come out of was built of beautiful red stones that, although jagged, seemed to fit together perfectly. There was a bearskin rug covering the floor across from the fireplace, with a matching couch and armchair. A massive chandelier hung from the center of the room, where all the visible wooden beams met. It curved down gracefully and sent streams of light across the room.

"It's very pretty, isn't it?" Hermione asked Ron, who still hadn't gotten up from the floor.

"I think I broke my back," he muttered painfully. "It aches like mad." Hermione lent him a hand to stand up with and he took it, but didn't look at her. "Where are we?" he asked, brushing his pants off a bit.

"I suppose we're in Viktor Krum's house, Ron," said Hermione with a touch of sarcasm.

"Are you sure we got off at the right grate?"

Hermione shrugged. This was the first time in her life that she was not quite sure about something.

"Viktor! It's Hermione! I've gotten here all right." Hermione shouted, and Ron sent her a disgruntled look, then settled himself down on the sofa. "Ron, you can't sit there, you're covered in soot!" She opened her trunk, took a large brush out of it, and proceeded to brush Ron off, while he blushed and muttered something that particularly sounded like mom.

A thumping came down the stairs in the other room, and then a dark clad figure ran into the room.

"Herm-own-ninny," the figure said happily, wrapping his long arms around her.

"Hello Viktor," Hermione said quietly, hugging him back.

Ron gave a loud cough from the couch, and Krum looked up, taken aback. He stared at Ron for a moment, then stared at Hermione.

"Herm-own-ninny?" Krum said uncertainly.

"Mum and dad didn't want me traveling alone," Hermione said in a false bright voice. "So, I brought Ron along."

Ron stood up and put out his hand for Krum to shake. He took it, but shook it weakly, still slightly speechless.

"Er…Vell, ve vill have fun regardless," Krum said slowly. He took Hermione's hand and led her to the kitchen. "Are the two of you hungry?"

"No, we just ate," Hermione said, and Ron closed his mouth, which was intending to say the exact opposite. He glared at Hermione, whose hand was intertwined with Viktor's.

"Vell, ve only haff one room prepared, you will haff to share it, is that all right?"

Both Hermione and Ron looked at each other uncertainly.

"I suppose," Hermione said tonelessly. "I'll just get my trunk." Ron followed her, grabbing his own trunk.

"I vill take them," Krum said, pulling his wand from his pants pocket and tapping the trunks. They followed the three up the staircase, and Krum stopped in front of a dark wooden door after making a left at the top of the staircase.

"There is only one bed," Krum said, "I'll look for a sleeping bag for Ron."

Hermione opened the door, and Ron followed her in. "It's beautiful." A crimson comforter covered the dark wooden bed on the wall across from the door, and it had a matching canopy. The same dark wood used in so much of the home was on the floor covered with a crimson rug, and there were matching dressers and tables, along with large, soft white pillows on the bed.

Ron jumped on top of the bed, bouncing slightly. "How come I get the sleeping bag?"

"Because you're supposed to give up the bed for the girl, Ron."

Ron stretched out on the pillows comfortably. "Why can't we share it? It's big enough."

"Because that's not proper, Ron."

"Because that's not proper, Ron," he mimicked. Hermione threw a pillow at him.

"You're the biggest prat I've ever met."

Ron buried his face in the pillow. "Fine then, you take the sleeping bag."

"Here, I haff it," Krum said, entering the room. He set it down on the floor; Ron made no move to climb into it. "You vill not give up the bed for Herm-own-ninny?"

Ron blushed, and Hermione made an impatient clucking noise with her tongue. "It is vhat any man would do, especially I," he assured him. Ron got off the bed as if it were on fire, and Hermione flashed Krum a grin. He smiled and shut the door. "I vill see the two of you in the morning for breakfast."

**xxx**


	3. Chapter Three

**To Bulgaria and Back: Chapter Three**

**By: Susan**

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns everything.

**Summary: **Set the summer before sixth year. Hermione is invited to visit Viktor Krum. However, her parents don't want her traveling alone to meet someone they don't know, so they convince her to take Ron along.

**xxx**

"I thought that you vould like to see our Ministry of Magic today, Herm-own-ninny?" Hermione smiled and took a sip of her tea.

"That sounds amazing, Viktor." He beamed at her, and Ron stifled a snort, then took a large bite of his toast. He was considering going back home, to tell the truth. Viktor had humiliated him with a deep blow to his manliness last night by making him give up the bed. And today Vicky and Herm-own-ninny would be enjoying the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic, while he walked around behind them and listened to people jabber about in Bulgarian. He wondered whether or not Bulgarian was a language. He'd never heard Krum speak it, had he?

The whole "vacation" seemed enough to make Ron want to scream. If they didn't visit the Quidditch pitch tomorrow, he would certainly be going home to the Burrow. He couldn't stand the repulsive looks Hermione and Krum were giving each other and the way he let his fingers rest on her hand as he poured her tea. The whole business disgusted him. Ron sighed heavily, and Krum's deep, throaty voice interrupted his thoughts.

"There are very many floors in the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic, and very many requirements for those who vant to vork there. They haff to speak English vell, and many know other languages, for it is very important in communication."

"What sorts of departments are there?" Hermione asked, her eyes shining. Ron rolled his own eyes. Count on Hermione to get excited at the mere mention of departments in the government.

"Ve haff very many, most are very similar to the ones in your ministry, but ve haff many more foreign departments. There are many less witches and wizards in Bulgaria than there are in England, so ve vork tirelessly for international communications."

"Are we going to see your Quidditch pitch?" Ron interrupted.

Krum smiled. "Of course, if that is what Herm-own-ninny vishes."

"I would love to see it," Hermione said, glancing at Ron, who smiled thankfully at her. "In fact," Hermione continued, "Ron brought his broomstick along; Last year he was made Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

"Really?" Krum looked surprised. "I vould love to play vith you. I am Seeker, but I vouldn't mind playing Chaser against you."

"I dunno about playing," Ron said, turning pink. Truthfully, he didn't want to be playing against any Quidditch professional. "Maybe we'll just...ride around."

Krum's face fell. Hermione shot him a look that painfully reminded him of Snape.

"You do not vant to play Quidditch against me?"

"He's afraid to lose," Hermione shot in, and Ron looked at her scornfully.

"I am not...It's just...my broom isn't one of the best."

"It does not matter the broom," Krum said, waving his hand, "It is the rider upon it that matters." Ron smiled weakly. "Vell, ve haff until next Sunday, and it is only Monday. You don't haff to make a decision right avay. I have Quidditch practice tomorrow night, Thursday night, and Friday, so you both are velcome to come along and vatch."

"We'd love to," Hermione said. "What else are we planning to do during the week?"

"Vell, I was thinking of perhaps visiting our hospital, St. Cherepishki's."

"So that's it? A hospital, Quidditch, and the ministry?"

"Vell, unless you haff something else to suggest," Krum said with a touch of warning in his voice. "There are always the grounds around my house. Ve have a river, a shrine, and a herd of cattle, if you are interested."

"Whatever you'd like to show us, Viktor," Hermione said, shooting Ron a dirty look.

"How about Durmstrang? Can't you take us there?"

"I'm afraid Durmstrang is very far from here. Much farther north than Bulgaria. It takes us a couple of days by train to reach it."

"That's why fur is part of their uniforms, right Viktor?" He smiled at Hermione.

"Of course. But I am quite glad it is not closer to me than it is right now; Durmstrang holds many memories that I vish I could forget at times."

"Like Karkaroff?" Ron prodded.

"Exactly," Krum said, but he made no gesture to explain anything more, so Ron fell silent.

"Erm," Hermione said, interrupting the silence. "What time will we be leaving?"

"Vhatever time you vould like, but hopefully vithin the hour."

"All right then, I'm just going to go upstairs and get ready." She turned on her heel and climbed the stairs two by two, leaving Ron and Krum to stare at one another awkwardly.

"Vell..."

"Er..."

"Yes..."

"I'll just be upstairs waiting for Hermione," Ron said quickly, as he had no idea what to say to Viktor Krum.

This was a professional Quidditch player standing right in front of him. If it was any professional Quidditch player, Ron would be begging for an autograph or staring at him in a reverie. But this was a professional Seeker who had feelings for Hermione, and even after two years of suspicions and jealousy, Ron still didn't know how that made him feel.

Ron took the stairs one by one, leaving Krum staring confusedly after his flaming red hair and secondhand robes.

**xxx**

"Almost ready, Hermione?"

"No."

"Good then. The longer you take, the shorter time we'll have to stay in the Ministry."

Hermione stepped out of the bathroom that joined the room they were sharing to shoot Ron a dirty look. "You couldn't have stayed downstairs with Viktor? Just talk to him, Ron," she pleaded, "he's really very nice."

Ron stared at her without absorbing her previous words. "Hermione...your hair..."

Hermione grinned smugly. "Do you like it? I decided it's easier to manage if I put it up."

"It looks...different," he said, his expression unreadable. She had placed it atop her head with curls streaming out. Ron stared at her for a second more, still slightly shocked, then lowered himself onto the bed and pretended to look at his watch, though he was still inwardly marveling over the fact that she did not look like the Hermione he knew.

"Do you think Viktor will like it?" she asked nonchalantly, and Ron snapped his head back up to look at her, angry that she could be thinking, once again, of Viktor.

"No, he'll think it looks terrible." Hermione narrowed her eyebrows.

"You know, Ron, you could at least try to be a friend. Viktor hasn't done one thing to you. Stop acting like a child!"

"You shouldn't change the way you look so people will like you, Hermione," Ron shot at her. "If anything, that's acting like a child."

"Excuse me? You're calling me childish? Did a ruin a perfectly nice person's time at the Yule Ball in fourth year? Do I pitch a fit every time I hear my friend talking about someone she's writing a letter to?"

Ron blushed. "Well I'm just saying, Hermione...er..." he glanced at her angry face, still slightly mesmerized by her hair...When she put it up that way she sort of looked...pretty. Shaking the thought away, (Hermione was one of his best friends, how could he even think such a thing?) he cleared his throat and went slightly pink in the ears. Hermione need never know that he had thought something like that. "Er...if Vicky really likes you, he wouldn't need you to do things like _that_," he waved his hand at her hair, and she bit her lip in anger.

"Maybe you should stop being such a hypocrite, Ron. It certainly seems that the only time_ you_ notice me is when I do things like _that_." She waved her hand in imitation of him, grabbed her cloak from the chair and stomped out of the room.

Ron stared at the doorway for a moment. The only time he noticed her was when she did her hair? What was that supposed to mean? Of course he noticed when she dressed differently; how could someone not...It was not exactly hard to miss Hermione's hair when it was down...Her whole face looked different when it was back. What was she bloody getting at?

Ron stood up, shaking slightly, and went into the bathroom, took the whole bottle of whatever it was she was using to subdue her hair, and threw it against the wall in anger. A bit more calmly, he picked up his comb from the countertop and stared at his hair in the mirror; if she was doing herself up, he might as well try to look acceptable.

"You might try not to anger her so much next time," said the mirror in a knowing voice. "If you heard the things she was saying about you, mister..."

Ron grunted and threw his comb at the mirror, ignoring its moan of pain. Once again, it seemed like everybody was against him.

**xxx**

"And this is the Department of Magical Games. Before I became Seeker, I had a summertime job doing much paperwork."

Ron clicked his tongue impatiently. They'd been at the Ministry for nearly two hours. Two hours, wandering around and listening to a million and seven bloody people say "Ah, Viktor, who is this pretty young lady? Is she not your girlfriend?" or jabber excitedly in Bulgarian (or, if Bulgarian wasn't a language, a tongue that he did not know nor care to learn). Hermione would blush and say no, that they weren't dating, and Krum would take her hand and lead her off to examine goblin statues, and the Department for the Aid and Welfare of Creatures of Near Human Intelligence. Hermione had particularly enjoyed that one, going on and on about SPEW, which Viktor translated to an excited worker.

"Did you do things other than paperwork, Viktor?"

"Vell, just small jobs like errands and processing demands for new Quidditch equipment."

"Is that how you got recruited?" Ron asked.

"I suppose. You see, much equipment was donated to the Department to donate to our Bulgarian Quidditch team, and they feared it might contain a hex or something to that effect, so they had me test much of it out, and decided that I could be an...vhat is the word...asset to their team."

"They took you on when the old Seeker, Bily Jaroslav retired, right?" Ron asked.

"Vhy, yes," Krum said, looking surprised. "I did not know that those from England vould know so much about Bulgarian Quidditch. He vas not a very vell known Seeker."

Ron beamed, and Hermione smiled in spite of the fact that Ron had been acting like a complete git all day. At least being complimented by Viktor could make him feel a little bit better.

"How much longer are we going to be here?" Ron interrupted, and Hermione sighed.

"I vas just going to show Herm-own-ninny one last Department, if that's all right."

Ron shrugged. His feet were aching, it was at least three o'clock, and it would easily take them an hour to get back to Krum's house. "If it's all right, I think I'm going to sit down and take a rest." He sat down on a wooden bench, hoping they would agree.

Krum smiled, "Of course it is all right with me." He took Hermione's hand and dragged her off. Ron stood up for a second, contemplating whether or not he should follow them. Krum had seemed awfully happy that he was leaving the two of them alone, hadn't he?

Shaking off an unsettling mental picture of the two of them snogging beside a marble statue of a house elf, he began to walk around again. Maybe he'd have a look at the fountain in the middle of the room.

"Psst! Boy, over here."

Ron whirled around, sticking his hand in the pocket of his robes and fishing for his wand. He held it out straight, and the strange voice began to laugh at him.

"I'm not here to harm you, boy. You can put that vand away, you silly child."

"Who're you calling a silly child?" Ron asked, highly offended. A crouching old woman stepped out from behind a pillar. Her skin looked like wrinkled old leather, giving him the impression that if something touched it, it would flake off in chunks.

Swallowing a huge urge to vomit, he stared at the frightful looking woman.

"Erm...Who're you?"

"Just an old voman looking to test out her latest-"

"I don't have any gold," Ron said immediately, and the woman began to laugh. He was instantly sorry he had said anything, because her laugh made her face contort and her skin appear to slip further from the bones. His eyes widened at the sight of her.

"I don't need gold, boy, don't need any type of payment. I vork for the vell being of others."

Ron found it highly unlikely that anyone would do that, but it certainly explained her appearance. Without money, she couldn't eat, and her decrepit face and skeletal body certainly gave her the appearance of someone who was starving. He instantly felt a wave of pity for the woman. Despite her frightening appearance, she probably wasn't a bad person. He sighed.

"What've you got?"

"First, tell me who you are here vith, my boy," she said.

"Erm...Well, my best friend Hermione took me along when our other friend Harry said he couldn't come. She's visiting Viktor Krum, the Seeker on the Bulgarian Quidditch team. We're from England," the woman snorted at the obviousness of the statement, and he smiled. "Her parents wouldn't let her travel alone."

"Ah, yes, so good friend you are, aren't you? To travel vith her?"

Ron shrugged. "Everyone keeps saying so, but I only came because I don't trust her and Viktor Krum alone."

The woman nodded knowingly. "So then, you like this girl?"

"No!" Ron said quickly. "We're just friends." He mentally took back any pity he had for her; she was obviously stupid if she thought that he thought anything more for Hermione than friendship. He shook away a fleeting vision of Hermione's hair that morning. What was wrong with him lately?

The old woman smiled, displaying a gold tooth amidst her row of yellow ones. "Thinking things you'd rather not think?"

Ron blinked. How in hell... "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, rotating on the spot. There was something bloody wrong with her, and he was getting away from her as quick as possible.

The woman put her hand on his shoulder, and he turned back around to face her.

"I've vritten something that I'd like to share..." Her eyes went round and white and she stared directly at him. He took a massive step back, but it didn't stop him from hearing the words of her raspy voice...

"_Six years it has been_

_The friendship for you_

_Though you tease and you fight_

_You are one of two_

_There's been fighting and dangers_

_Some vere and vill be taken above_

_I presume it safe to say_

_It will end in-"_

"Ron, are you ready to leave?" Ron turned around, eyes wide, to see Hermione's face looking at him confusedly. "Is something wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Ron shook his head. "There was this odd old lady...We were talking..." He turned around to where the woman was standing. There was no one there. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"I didn't see any woman," Hermione said to him, putting her hand on his arm. "Ron, are you sure you're all right?

He didn't answer her. He was certain there had been a woman there. But what unsettled him more was the poem she had recited...The poem...He shook his head, almost dazed...He was imagining things. It stemmed from a lack of food. They'd been wandering around the Ministry for ages, obviously he would be hungry.

"Ron, are you positive you're all right?" Hermione looked very concerned.

Ron turned to look at where the old woman had been standing once more as Hermione guided him across the marble floor and past the columns toward Krum.

He was certain there had been an old woman...

"I'm fine," Ron said quickly. "Just fine."

He followed Hermione and Krum through the Ministry, the frightening old woman's raspy voice still in his head.

_It will end in..._

**xxx**


	4. Chapter Four

**To Bulgaria and Back: Chapter Four**

**By: Susan**

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns everything.

**Summary: **Set the summer before sixth year. Hermione is invited to visit Viktor Krum. However, her parents don't want her traveling alone to meet someone they don't know, so they convince her to take Ron along.

**xxx**

Hermione awoke almost immediately after the sun rose the next morning. Shaking her hair from her face, she sat up and stretched, turning to her side so she could look out the window.

Last night had been nothing short of a disaster. Viktor had cooked them a delicious meal, but Ron had been, if possible, worse than he had been that day. For one thing, he seemed entirely more distant than he had ever been with her, and kept sending furtive glances her way while they ate. She suspected a new wave of jealously had come over him...after all, he'd acted exactly the same way when Viktor had taken her to the Yule Ball.

The problem with it was that she wasn't sure how she felt when she thought of Ron being jealous of her relationship with Viktor.

In truth, Viktor Krum was not someone she could see herself in a romantic relationship with. He was intelligent and fun to talk to, but he lacked the spark that could have attracted him to her.

But Ron's anger and what Viktor had suggested to her was jealousy were two things that she could not seem to sort out. A tiny part of her was pleased when she saw his eyes flash at the mere mention of Viktor's name or when she wrote him a letter and he acted snappish.

Before Hogwarts, she had been too young to be interested in boys, and now that she was nearing her sixth year and turning sixteen, she was shocked to find that she was unsure of what was going on. Was Ron truly jealous, or did he just dislike Viktor Krum? Or was he just being a friend and looking out for her?

It seemed awfully arrogant to even think the first, and to think the latter gave her a slight feeling in the pit of her stomach that almost made her sick.

"Is Vicky making us breakfast?" Hermione turned to see a very tired looking Ron standing before her. His secondhand pajamas looked tight around his legs, and he was stifling a yawn. As much as she tried, she could not deny the somersault her stomach did when she looked at him.

"You ought to leave Viktor alone, Ron," Hermione said, trying to recover from her thoughts. "He cooked you dinner last night and you ignored him through most of it."

Ron looked at her blankly. "Well, you didn't hear what she said," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing, Hermione. Now, when's breakfast?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and lay back down. "Is that all you care about? Food? Typical boy." Ron looked offended.

"Normal people want breakfast when they wake up in the morning," Ron said, sitting down on the bed beside her. "Although, I suppose since you read for fun, you wouldn't be considered normal."

Hermione rolled over and turned the other way. "I'm honestly not in the mood for a row, Ron."

Ron gave a loud gasp. "Never thought I'd see the day."

Hermione lifted her pillow up and slammed him in the head with it. He looked dazed for a second, then grabbed the other pillow and lifted it threateningly. He stared at her for a moment and then dropped it.

"Hermione..." he paused, looking as if he'd changed his mind.

"What, Ron?"

"What's that there?" He held a shaky finger out toward her neck.

"What's what?" she asked impatiently.

"That...that right there," he said quietly. She touched her neck gingerly.

"There's nothing there, Ron."

Ron shook his head. "No...It's...it's just there."

"What is?"

"You've got," he paused and blushed, "A love bite."

Hermione snorted. "No I haven't. Where would I get one of those, Ron?"

Ron's eyes widened. "Were you and Vicky- last night- were you-"

Hermione looked shocked that he would even suggest such a thing. "We weren't doing anything, Ron! We stayed up talking while you went up to sleep."

"Well...you've got something right there, Hermione."

"I haven't anything there."

He held out a finger again, "You and Vicky- were you-" His face clouded, and suddenly he looked angry. Hermione slid back from him on the bed. "YOU LET HIM KISS YOU, DIDN'T YOU?"

"I DID NOT!" Hermione shouted, thoroughly angry. "I haven't got anything on my neck, and unless _you_ kissed me in my sleep, I have no idea how it arrived there." Immediately after the words had come out of her mouth, she put her hand over it, as if to stop anything else from leaping out. Ron, however, didn't seem to notice her words, and continued shouting.

"YOU LET HIM KISS YOU WHEN YOU KNOW HE FANCIES YOU?"

"Viktor didn't kiss me, Ron," Hermione said, trying to keep her voice level. She didn't need Viktor to wake up and hear Ron and her fighting about whether or not he had kissed her the night before. It was obvious he already thought she was a child by the way her friends acted around him.

"Then where did you get that...that mark...on your neck?"

Hermione stood up and inspected her neck in the mirror. It was a round pink splotch that gave her the impression she had fallen asleep on something. She stepped back to the bed, lifted the sheet, and looked at Ron triumphantly.

"Honestly, Ron. I fell asleep reading last night," she said, pointing to the book. "Besides, it doesn't even look like a love bite."

Ron didn't look convinced. "What is it, Ron," Hermione asked, a sudden and tart cruelty washing over her, "Jealous, are you?"

Ron stopped and gaped at her. He stood up angrily and stamped into the bathroom. Hermione suddenly felt apologetic. In all honesty, the words had just come out because, at times, it was what she wanted. She flushed at the thought of wanting Ron to be jealous of her and shook it away. Ron was her friend. For almost six years they had been friends.

"Ron?" she asked, following him, feeling the need to apologize. She didn't need him angry with her; she knew it would lead to him being rude all day. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean..."

He grunted at her. "I'm sorry Ron, you've just been so terrible about Viktor and I that I couldn't take it anymore." He ignored her. She clenched her fists menacingly. Was it only her, or had she apologized to him when she knew it was he that was wrong? And he still was rude to her?

"Well fine then. I haven't got enough time to sit here and try to explain to you that you're being ridiculous."

She turned on her heel and stamped out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Ron stuck his head out of the bathroom and stared almost longingly at the door she had just crashed shut.

He slapped himself in the head and went back to applying toothpaste to his toothbrush. Whatever was wrong with him lately, he sincerely hoped it would vanish by the time they went home to England, because it was making him feel mighty uncomfortable.

**xxx**

"Ve are very proud ov our cattle, Herm-own-ninny. Ve have raised them for many years, and ve have vatched them grow."

Hermione stared out across the fields. They seemed to stretch on in front of her for miles, the afternoon sun warming the grassy hills upon the rocky land. Viktor's grounds were nothing short of wonderful.

"They're beautiful, Viktor," Hermione said, sliding her hand through the rails of the brown wooden fence and placing it on a velvety soft cow's back. She could feel it breathing in and out; its chocolately brown coat gleaming in the sun.

"That one has been mine since I vas a child. I named her Dita. I make sure that the men who help to take care of our grounds do nothing to her because she is my own."

Even Ron, who had been standing behind the two with an angry look on his face, could not deny the beauty of the grounds around them. Everywhere he looked there was another rocky hill with greenery growing on it, or a river with a tiny waterfall running over the rocks. He could almost imagine sitting beside Hermione, holding her hand, with their feet in the cool water...

"We should have a picnic lunch here," Ron blurted out.

"We just ate lunch, Ron," Hermione said exasperatedly.

"I meant another day, Hermione," Ron responded quickly, trying to cover up what he had been thinking. He felt the color rise to his cheeks, and determinedly tried not to look at her.

"I think that is a very good notion," Viktor said quietly, putting his hand on the cow's head and rubbing it. The cow let out a soft mooing noise, and Hermione couldn't help but smile. "My mother used to pack a picnic for my family vhen I vas a child."

"How come you kept your house even though you've been paid loads of galleons since you got on the Bulgarian Quidditch team?" Ron asked, pushing his anger and slight jealousy of Viktor to the side in curiosity. Krum looked surprised he would ask such a question, but pleased all the same.

"Vell, I suppose I am just vhat you vould call...vhat is the vord...sentimental. My home holds many memories for me. I vould not vant to leave it."

He motioned to Hermione and she followed him as he walked a part of the length of the fence. Ron stood and stared at them as they walked onward. He couldn't hear what they were saying, the slight breeze was taking their words away.

A wave of jealously washed over him. He clenched his fists, threw them into his pockets and followed the two slowly. It was impossible to deny it anymore. Ron was jealous. Jealous that they fancied each other, jealous that Hermione didn't fancy him, jealous...just jealous.

And jealous that Krum had wooed Hermione before he had even realized he liked her. Yep...that was it.

He was slightly shocked at himself lately. He didn't know what had gotten into him. Perhaps it was the Bulgarian air...He began to follow them slowly, almost trudging across the grass. Ron stared around at Viktor's grounds. The place was outstanding; he was unable to deny it. And he felt slightly ashamed that it had taken him so long to realize his feelings for Hermione. It was stupid to even consider taking any action...Look at where he was. He had a couple of sickles (if he was lucky) to his name, robes that used to be Bill's, Pig, and a chess set. Certainly anything he had was overshadowed by the famous Viktor Krum, Bulgarian seeker.

He looked at the two walking ahead of him scornfully. He was angry at his stupidity over the past year or two. How could he have made so many excuses at the Yule Ball? How could he have hidden his feelings from himself for so long?

Ron began to run to catch up with them. He was determined to not let them leave his sight; that mark on Hermione's neck had made him suspicious. Truth be told, he'd never even seen a love bite, but he was even more determined than before to make sure that nothing went on between them in front of him.

Hermione and Viktor turned to see Ron skidding across the grass towards them, panting slightly. They waited for him and opened the gate to walk in with the cows, after he had made his way to them.

"After you," Krum said politely, motioning to Hermione. Slightly flustered, she tiptoed into the corral. Ron held back the urge to open the gate wide and let all the cattle out to roam free.

"Is this where you feed them?" Hermione called from the other side of the corral; Ron was stunned as to how she had made her way over there so fast.

"Yes, that is vhere ve put the food, Herm-own-ninny."

"What do you normally feed them?"

Ron didn't wait to hear Krum's answer; shoving his fists in his pockets, he walked over to the nearest cow and watched it for a moment. He pulled a hand gingerly from his pocket and proceeding to pat it on the neck.

The cow, unfortunately, seemed to not want Ron's hand upon it, and it turned quickly and began walking towards him, almost face to face with him. Ron took a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder. Viktor and Hermione were talking animatedly, and he wasn't about to ask for Vicky's help. He could deal with a silly cow, he had won the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor last term. A cow was nothing.

It continued walking towards him, keeping its eyes on Ron's. Ron could almost see a mischievious glint in them, as if the cow knew that whatever was going to happen was going to be something it could laugh over later on in the day.

He took bigger steps backwards. The cow began to walk faster, until suddenly he was inches from it and it stepped faster and faster until suddenly, he felt himself trip over backwards. He was laying on his back in what felt like mud. He scrunched up and let the cow continue to walk past him, pulling all his limbs closer to him and hoping they wouldn't be stepped on and shattered.

Ron sat up. The cow had run past him, and he suddenly recognized what he had fallen in. The brown pile that had broken his fall was certainly not mud.

"Dammit," Ron said, following it with words his mother would have been ashamed to hear.

"Are you all right, Ron?" Hermione asked, turning around and suddenly noticing that he was on the floor. "What happened?"

She ran over to him and held out a hand to pull him up from the ground, but he didn't take it. He didn't need her noticing just what was on his hands.

"I fell," Ron said, letting her know that he found the answer to her question completely obvious. Viktor trotted over from the other side of the corral.

"Did you try to touch the cow over there?" He asked in an undertone, "The one with the darker brown spots?"

Ron nodded and pulled himself to a standing position. He wiped his hands quickly on his robes during the moment Hermione looked towards Viktor.

"That one is a bull," Viktor said, as if this was an obvious fact. "He is not as calm and collected as the others, which are female."

"What did you fall in?" Hermione asked. Ron turned scarlet.

"Nothing...Just some dirt," Ron said quickly, pulling away from Hermione's frantic hands and prying eyes.

"That isn't dirt, Ron," she pushed his lightly out of the way and began to smile. "You fell in..."

Hermione couldn't suppress her hysterical laughter. She joined Viktor, who had already been laughing for quite some time. Ron turned, if possible, redder.

"I haven't- I just- I-" He turned away from them angrily, which caused them to laugh harder when they laid eyes on his back. He stamped out of the gate, leaving it wide open in hope that half of Vicky's cows would escape and he would spend the whole day searching for them.

Ron stripped off his robes as he stamped away from them, knowing he'd have to change the pair of jeans he had underneath as well. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts of embarrassing himself in front of Hermione and her boyfriend, an international Quidditch player from his mind.

_What a way to get your best friend to fancy you_, Ron couldn't help but think as he trudged off across the grounds towards Viktor's home. _Fall in a pile of cow dung_.

**xxx**


	5. Chapter Five

**To Bulgaria and Back: Chapter Five**

**By: Susan**

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns everything.

**Summary: **Set the summer before sixth year. Hermione is invited to visit Viktor Krum. However, her parents don't want her traveling alone to meet someone they don't know, so, they convince her to take Ron along.

**A/N:** I must apologize for the SEVERLY long time between updates. (More than 4 months! winces) I've been awfully busy with school and homework. Finally on Christmas break, and I think I may be able to finish this story up during it. I want to thank a bunch of loyal reviewers for begging me to continue this story…I do hope you come back and read it. Thanks for making me want to continue. You guys are awesome.

**xxx**

"Ron?" Hermione's voice was loud, even though Ron had both the door to their room and the adjoining bathroom closed. "Ron, are you all right?"

He ignored her and focused on scrubbing at the mess on his robes and pants, which he had taken off and laid on the counter. He stood in his tee shirt and shorts, with his bare feet frozen on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor. Ron had seriously considered borrowing Viktor's toothbrush to help him clean his pants, but he had thought better of it at the last moment.

"Ron?" the bathroom door slid open and Hermione's face peeked through.

"GET OUT, HERMIONE!" Ron yelled, leaping behind the toilet. "I'm in my shorts!"

He heard the door click shut and her laughter from behind it, but he did not find the situation remotely humorous. He stoodup once more and turned the water faucet back on.

"Ron? Do you need some help?"

"No."

"Don't be angry at me, Ron. It wasn't my fault you fell."

"It was your fault you brought me here."

"You chose to come," Hermione's voice said, and he noticed a tinge of sadness in her voice. "I thought we would have fun together."

"Right. Fun with Vicky," Ron said through gritted teeth. He took the brush and scrubbed harder. The door creaked open once more. "HERMIONE!"

"What- Oh, Ron, you're all covered. It's nothing I haven't seen before." She tiptoed into the bathroom and took the pants and robes from his hands. "Why don't you go change while I work on these?"

"I said I didn't need any help."

"Well, I want to help, Ron." He muttered something incoherent back at her. "What was that?" She glanced at him, and their eyes met for a split second. She lowered her eyes and suddenly her face began to burn. He suddenly remembered he was standing beside her in his shorts. It was Ron's turn to blush.

"I told you not to come in," he stammered at her, after a moment of awkward silence between them. Hermione's face turned magenta.

"I'm sorry, Ron."

"About barging in?" Ron asked, and then added hastily, "or about laughing at me?"

"Is that why you're upset?" Hermione asked, it suddenly dawning on her, "Because we laughed at you?"

"No," Ron said immediately. Hermione looked at him quizzically, but said nothing for a moment.

"I'm sorry for both of those things, Ron," she finally said. He grunted back at her. "You could at least accept my apology," she said, rubbing his robes with the brush.

"Thanks," Ron told her gruffly.

"You know, it was silly of me to laugh at you then when I could be laughing at you in your shorts now," Hermione joked. Ron turned pink, and they stood together in awkward silence for a couple of moments, until Ron walked out of the bathroom to change.

Hermione watched him from the bathroom with a bemused expression for a second. His rumpled red hair and freckled nose, his wrinkled shirt and embarrassment at her seeing him in his shorts made her stomach turn. She went back to scrubbing at his pants, feeling color rise to her cheeks even though Ron was in the other room. What was it about Ron Weasley that made her feel differently than she had ever felt before?

**xxx**

"Ron? Are you asleep?" Hermione's voice came from the door behind him. He was laying with his eyes shut on the bed, facing the window. It looked like it was beginning to rain, and his mood matched the storm on the outside.

"No."

"Viktor's just left for Quidditch practice and I told him we weren't coming along."

"You didn't want to go and watch?" Ron asked sarcastically.

"I wanted to spend a bit of time with you," Hermione said gently.

Ron studied her face for a moment, wishing he'd kept the sarcastic comment to himself. "Thanks, Hermione."

She smiled at him, then sat down on the bed. He sat up beside her, and she moved closer to him when they heard heavy drops of rain begin to fall.

"D'you know what we are doing tomorrow?" he asked. She studied his freckled nose for a second, then shook her head, landing a few of her curls on Ron's neck

"I thought Krum said something about going into town," Ron offered weakly, as the roar of the rain became louder and Hermione placed a hand on his own.

"Maybe," Hermione whispered, running her fingers along his warm hand, but snatched her hand back almost immediately. What had gotten into her?

"D'you think that one day everything will be normal?" Ron asked suddenly. "With Harry? And…You…Vol…Voldemort," he stammered.

Hermione felt that this was an appropriate time to squeeze his hand and did so; Ron blushed scarlet, and she felt her heart do a nosedive. What was getting into her?

"I hope so," she said quietly. "But nobody will know until it happens."

"I…I don't think we should fight anymore," Ron said, turning towards her and focusing his eyes on her own. She kept her eyes lined up with his own, trying not to notice their interesting color or their sparkle despite the subject they were talking about.

"Never thought I'd see the day," Hermione said sarcastically, and Ron grinned in spite of himself.

"I'm serious though," Ron said once he'd finished chuckling. "Harry needs us. And we can't be so focused on one another if we want to help him."

Hermione stopped. Did he mean what she thought he did? She pulled her hand out of his immediately. They couldn't be focused on one another if they wanted to help Harry. Focused on one another…how so? Romantically? Or pugnaciously?

It seemed like he noticed her confusion. "You…don't want to stop fighting?"

"Oh, don't be silly Ron," Hermione lied quickly, "I just thought it's easier to promise something than to keep that promise."

"Well, we've been best friends for six years," Ron said defensively. "I would think we'd be able to keep promises by now."

"We can keep promises, Ron, it's just that this is different somehow. I can't promise that to you unless our relationship changes somehow." She put her hand over her mouth, but Ron barreled on, not noticing her allusion to a romance that even in the past day, she had been suddenly craving more than anything.

"Well, I can change, Hermione. I can promise you that. I'll…I don't know, do my homework more often. I won't ask you to let me copy yours. And I won't make fun of you about SPEW either."

"It's S.P.E.W., Ron."

"I know, Hermione, I just couldn't resist," he grinned sheepishly at her, and she couldn't help but smile back at him. That suddenly mischievous, handsome smile- and she'd thought only Fred and George had the mischievous streak of the Weasley family. Perhaps Ron had more surprises within him than she'd thought. In six years, she'd never seen him smile like that at her. As if he was egging her on, teasing her purposefully.

It was flattering, come to think of it. Her cheeks began to burn, which made that smile ever wider.

"Well, how about this, Ron. I'll lecture you less often about doing your homework in a timely fashion. And I'll let you copy mine more often."

"Really?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Absolutely not," Hermione responded. "You'll never learn if you don't do it on your own."

Ron grinned at her again, and Hermione laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. She wished their promise of not fighting was something that they might one day be able to keep, because she figured that with it would come seeing Ron's handsome smile a bit more often, and she certainly liked seeing that smile.

**xxx**

"Ve are very lucky," Krum said, grabbing the metal handhold above him. "Ve just made that train. Ve vill not haff to vait for the next one."

"Here," said Ron, "You can sit down." He motioned to Hermione, who smiled at him.

"Thanks Ron," she said. He gripped the handhold above her and tried not to look into her eyes. She turned to look out the window of the train for a moment. It was creaking along, the whole car shaking, and Ron was careful not to follow with his eyes to where Hermione was looking. He had eaten quite a bit too much before they had gotten on the train and he expected he'd be nothing less than queasy if he looked at the spinning scenery outside of the train window.

They were headed into Plovdiv, a large city in southern Bulgaria. Viktor said that all women enjoyed looking into the large windows at the fancy clothes and jewelry, and had insisted that Hermione visit it before they left Bulgaria.

Ron looked over at Hermione- she was grinning as she peered out the window at the twirling landscape. He glanced toward Krum, who was sifting through his wallet. He met Ron's eyes for a moment, and motioned the wallet towards Hermione. Ron felt a giant stab of jealousy in the pit of his stomach. He slipped his hand in his pocket, trying not to attract Viktor's birdlike stare. Four sickles. He felt his lunch leap up into his mouth, a combined effect of a sudden turn of the train and his realization that he had nothing to offer Hermione on this excusion. He was confined to watch from the sideline as Viktor Krum, international Quidditch star, wooed his best friend and long-time but short-admitted love interest.

Ron glanced over at Hermione again, and noticed immediately that her eyes were upon him; she blushed and turned back towards the window.

"Are you haffing fun, Herm-own-ninny?" Viktor asked. He seemed intent on providing Hermione with the perfect trip.

Hermione turned towards him with a quiet smile. "Of course, Viktor. It's beautiful." He smiled back at her, and Ron felt his stomach quiver.

"It is the next stop," Viktor said after about fifteen minutes of silence. He shifted his weight on the pole he was holding, and Ron bit his lip, watching Viktor's impressive muscles shift with him. He remembered that tomorrow he would be on the Quidditch pitch playing against him.

The train slowed to a stop, and Krum took Hermione's hand and ushered her and Ron to the doors of the train, which opened as soon as they got there.

They were standing on an open air train platform, raised many feet above the ground so that Ron could easily see much of Plovdiv. The buildings were tall, but there were no skyscrapers. He grinned in spite of himself. It was incredible to look at a wall of trees on a hill to his right and buildings to his left.

"Come," Viktor said, and Ron came back down to earth when he realized he was still holding Hermione's hand. "I haff to show you the stores, Herm-own-ninny."

Ron followed from behind as Viktor and Hermione peeked into store windows, still holding one another's hands. He tried not to remember that it was just last night when Hermione had held his hand. He shook the thoughts of how her hand felt in his own from his mind. It was obvious she was interested in Viktor, and he'd do well to forget about this stupid crush and let her be happy.

"Vell boy, how has it been?" Ron swiveled his head around and noticed a crouching old woman beside a lamp post. "Haff any luck vith the pretty girl?"

Ron bit his lip. It couldn't be. If it was…He turned toward the voice. There was no mistaking her leathery skin. The woman began to laugh; a loud, throaty croaking sound that made many of the bustling people on the street turn to stare.

"I…er…don't know what you're talking about," Ron said, and began to walk to where Viktor and Hermione were, just twenty meters ahead of him. The old woman's hand shot out. He was surprised at how strong she was, for she was able to steer him back towards her.

"I haff something to say to you, boy," she said. Ron rolled his eyes. He honestly was in no mood to hear another poem. The first one had left him troubled enough. He suddenly realized how unlikely it was to see the same woman in Plovdiv and in Krum's small town about an hour away. Was he being stalked? A sudden shiver went up his spine, but it seemed the old woman hadn't noticed. Her eyes had gone white and round like marbles, just like that first time she had spoken to him.

_You haff realized something  
__You denied once before  
__This is no fling  
__It is something, for sure._

_B__ut vhat is it? Vho knows?  
__Tell her how you feel  
__Don't let her suppose  
__Or she von't know for real._

"Are you aware that your poetry is really quite terrible?" Ron asked her.

The woman grinned, revealing rows of rotting teeth. "But it is helpful, no?"

Ron shrugged. "I suppose. It's just…How did you-"

"Ron?" He turned his head towards Hermione's voice.

"Hermione?"

"We're just going to go into this store, if that's all right," she said. He forced a grin.

"Sure, Hermione." She smiled broadly at him.

"All right, Ron," Hermione said. She pranced away towards Viktor, and Ron clenched his fists in anger. Suddenly she came swirling back towards him. "You know, Ron, you can come inside with us, if you'd like," she offered.

He nodded. "I'll meet you inside, then." If possible, her smile grew wider.

"Thanks, Ron." She ran back towards Viktor, and Ron noticed he tried to take her hand in his own, but she pulled it out of his grasp. His chest suddenly felt like it would burst from excitement. Ron turned back towards the old woman with an enthusiastic roar, but she was nowhere to be found. He was alone next to the lamp post.

He supposed he should go inside and meet them, and he did so, accompanied by a tiny euphoria that he sincerely hoped would grow.

**xxx**


End file.
